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The bundle arrives at 5am. Dan & Charlie don’t come in, they never do, just sling it down by the milk crates and drive off. It’s usually wet when I pick it up but it don’t matter, I throw the top and bottom ones out anyway. Saves about twenty minutes in the long run. Not recently, though. They’ve put the big houses up on the Ridge onto my round ‘cos it’s the holidays and no one’s about. Takes bloody ages to get up there and they’ve all got them ‘No Junk Mail’ signs so you know you’re not wanted. Sometimes one of ‘em comes out and shouts but you just pretend you don’t hear nothing and keep going. No time to stop, too cold for that. Just get it over with.

Nan’s got me some gloves for Christmas. The thermal ones, she said, to stop me pinkies going blue. Trouble is, you can’t sort through the flyers so you end up taking them off anyway, bless her. Sometimes I go round after I’m done ‘cos she’s always got the heating up. Like the Bahamas in there most days, even in summer. Might nip over later if it’s still light. She likes a natter.

The first bit’s dead quick. Mostly flats, all shoved up close together & no one cares if you chuck in some extras. They all end up in the bin anyway, so what’s a few more if it makes life easier? You’ve got to watch it, though. A couple of lads got the elbow for putting theirs in a skip last week and bunking off early; not what you want at this time of year. Usually you see a few posties on the way, struggling with their big sacks of parcels and fat letters and cards and that. Makes you glad you’re not one of them, even though they make loads more than us. We don’t talk, neither. Everyone wants to get back indoors, quick as you like.

As you move out of town, the houses get bigger and further apart. Some have drives you’ve got to walk up, and dogs giving it all that until you leave. And those letterboxes that snap back onto your fingers, ‘cos to them you’re no better than the draughts they’re keeping out. There’s usually someone in, but when they see you coming they go in another room and pretend they’re not there. You can see their shadows through the crazy glass, trying to keep still. When you finally get up to the Ridge, you know you’re on the home run. Grand old places all the way along it, but there’s not too many and it’s downhill all the way back. You’re glad of this ‘cos by now you’ve had enough.

Today though, this old geezer comes out of one in his pyjamas and it’s well after lunch. ‘Here we go’, I says, and pull up my hood. But he’s shouting and shouting and I’m thinking maybe I’ve dropped something outside, so I go back. He’s only holding a tray and offering it out to me like some bloody weirdo. Now, I’ve been told about this sort of thing back at the depot and how to deal with it, but he don’t look so bad. Quite sad, actually. ‘Happy Christmas’, he goes. ‘Have a mince pie. It’ll keep you warm.’ I’m looking at him harsh so he don’t think I’m one of them, but he’s right: it’s bloody freezing and it’ll be an hour or two before I get back. So I take the pie and it’s lovely and warm in my hands. I watch him take a bite of his so I know it’s alright, then I put the whole thing in my mouth and swallow it down quick. And it’s proper nice. All sugary sweet with raisins and fruit and everything. But then I look up to say cheers and the bastard’s gone back in. Like I said, bloody weirdo.

Don’t think I’ll make it over to Nan’s after all. It’s getting dark and I’m up early in the morning. She’ll wait a day and you know what? That pie will do me until I get in, and the streetlights sort of make you feel warm too. It’s not so bad. And it’s downhill all the way back…

my postman is awesome. he has written 12 novels and he runs a website called welsh ruins which is the best of its kind about that. he takes photos of them. he did me 4 big prints for xmas at 25 quid each. ive just sent him and email saying i can give him 40 quid now which allows me enough money for gin and fags for the new years eve weeping session 🙂

Happy New Year 🙂

they let me play guitar down the black last night. went alright. had to leave though cos they had a film on and it was a bit boring and the landlord was trying to say i should watch the film that was on instead of chatting loudly about nicolas cage.

no less than 2 people literally ran away when i started talking about my other personalities. bit of a problem. im gonna go and work in the red soon anyway, f*** em. hahah ❤

Rosecat. Your multifaceted personalities sure are confusing us here at IEHQ! But we know it’s you so that’s all good. Tip from the capital: Use that £60, get in some quality pinot (or gin, I do not judge), down it quick & come up smiling in 2015. NYE is invariably a tapestry of disappointment, the annihilation of which with whichever poison you have to hand can only be encouraged to the nth degree. I’ll probably be doing the same. Happy New Year…

im embarased to call it folk but i met a lad last night who does folk. dressed like the 50s. what comes after that ? the 60s. i need to get doing beats and all that ready for new rave type thing in 5 years. im kind of hoping you wont be able to categorise it. ill be f***** if im calling it avant garde.

watching that crashing boring snob will self on room 101 last night. he wont tell me what music he likes on twitter. im sure he finds me crass and boring and too stupid to even talk to. hahahah ❤

what am i even wanging on about, its like a rerun of the film adaptation the entire time.

anyway i aint going to the black for several months. im living in a f*** film i aint got time to watch them and have ppl tell me to shut up about nicolas cage while they are trying to distract from the mind numbing tedium of their lives.

im not rewarding the fact of being told to shut up about nicolas cage with my custom.

tip from insane bohemian artist who frequents pubs: try to actually give a shit about your customers. this guy doesnt give a shit about anything and his stupid pub will be run by someone else in like 2 years max. if they even last the winter it will be a miracle.

he hates his customers. im not even kidding. he finds em boring. sorry love but where else they gonna go and give you money to listen ??? you f*****…. sorry. im ranting arent i.

i would like to visit your pub v much. lived in london 9 years, miss it alot. 🙂 ❤

its just sad really. i like the people there but im gonna go and work in the red lion soon. i can do portering and try and get off benefits. im not on any meds, im gonna build my life from scratch, i need less help all the time. this country has been good to me and im gonna pay it back with interest.

i probably already said that. anyway sorry for spamming on your blog ok.